Home and away fanfiction just let it go,52 hunter vernazza brushed cocoa ceiling fan noise,hunter ceiling fan remote only one - PDF Review

Author: admin  //  Category: Stand Fans

Tumblr needs a couple of positive blogs giving recognition and praise where it is deserved, so I’ve decided to start featuring especially excellent Hetalia fanfiction. If Harry, Liam, Louis, Niall & Zayn are just as important to you as they are to us, we think you'll like this blog. A lot.We ship people, write fanfiction, post pictures and really, just admire the five lovely boys that are making a huge difference in the world. Slowly unfolding from my previous position, I laid there on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for the pain to ebb. Keeping to this pattern, I slowly made my way towards the bathroom, leaning against the wall. I turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up, and pulled off the three sizes too large long sleeved shirt I had managed to pull on last night, leaving me completely exposed in front of the mirror.
There were bruises that matched his hands perfectly on my hips, a reminder of why I don't like to sleep in this hell. There were matching bruises on my throat from being choked, and cuts from when he threw a bottle of vodka at me. I cried for ending up in this situation, I cried for never leaving him, I cried for thinking he loved me, and I cried for loving him. I stepped under the spray of hot water, wincing as it hit bruises fresh and old, and cleaned off the dried blood and other bodily fluids and the old makeup.
I scrubbed the unbruised skin to a raw red color trying to erase every trace of him from my body. I stepped out of the shower when the water began to run cold, and wrapped a towel around my skinny frame. Feeling slightly better, I managed to make it to the main bedroom of the apartment where my clothes were. I pulled out a long sleeved Metallica shirt, slipping it on and then pulling on a pair of boxers. I pulled one of my looser pairs of skinny jeans on and threaded a studded belt through the loops. I never knew how badly I could miss Scranton, with all the dick jocks and bitchy cheerleaders that tortured me all through my school years, until now. I slipped ,all of my piercings in and put silver spacers in my ears before turning to covering up the huge bruise that dominated the right side of my face, from the top of my cheekbone to the bottom of my jaw and the ones on my neck.
I wiped concealer and foundation over them before ringing my eyes in black, then moved on to drawing my eyebrows. Finally satisfied that they couldn't be seen unless you were looking for them, I picked up my phone and called my friend Josh."Balz, would you be able to give me a ride to the university?""Chris, where the hell are you? See you in a few minutes." I ended the call and got downstairs as quickly as I could, grabbing my book bag and launching out the door, trying to get to the park as fast as possible.

I never let the guys come over to Daniel's because 1) He would make them leave, beat me, and then never let me hang out with them again, and 2) He'd think I was cheating on him, which I don't see why he cares about me being faithful to him when he's fucked most of the university already.
I finally made it to the park and sat on the ground underneath the old willow tree we always met up under. Under the caption 'NEW MUSIC PROFESSOR', there was a picture of a guy with huge tunnels in his ears, snakebites, and with what looked like a fairly colorful tattoo on his chest."Damn. I ran towards the music room and stepped through the door after class had started."Good morning.
You can either have a group of up to six people or be a solo artist, but you need a name, a schedule, and begin working to write a few songs, any of which you can perform in front of the class in the next few weeks after you get it down. You can use any of the instruments in this room, and if you do a cover, put your own spin on it. I pulled out my notebook and started writing in it, rolling my eyes as I heard someone mutter 'faggot' after my name was called on the roster."This is a college, I would've hoped you've matured a bit, Smith.
First performances are in three weeks." The rest of the guys just talked amongst themselves while I wrote down a new guitar part for a song. Moving on to an unfinished bit of lyrics, the only thing I really heard was the harsh electronic tone signaling the end of class."Have fun, stay safe, and enjoy your weekend, guys.
I'll see you Monday." The rest of the class just shoved their things into their bags and left, Ricky and Ryan included. I waved Balz, Devin and Brandon off as I put my stuff up, trying to decide how wise putting off meeting Daniel after school would be. I don't like people who just act like dicks because they can." I could see him looking at me kinda odd.
I-I'm s-sorry!" I stepped back until I hit the wall, which really wasn't as far as I wished."I do believe that the school is closed. No one should be so accustomed to being hurt that they expect it." I wanted to just scream or be somewhere else. How the hell had someone I'd only known for a little under two hours already correctly guessed something that only one of my friends knows?
I hate that its been so easy to make me cry, I hate that I'm in love with someone who can and probably will kill me, and I hate that I can't get away. I finally was able to stop and, borrowing an eyeliner pencil from Mike, fix my slightly fucked up makeup."Look, I know you don't want help right now, you think you can handle this, but you can't do this alone.
Just- just try and get away from him as soon as possible, find a friend to stay with, ask your parents if you can come home, just get away from him as soon as possible." He gently pat my shoulder and I looked at him, gratefully.
He put his number in my phone and I put mine in his, steadying myself for the hell to come."I'm always available, alright?
I caught the bus to the stop closest to the apartment buildings, the five minute ride seeming to take hours.

Before I even got to the entrance of the building, I took all of my piercings out, remembering the pain of a torn out lip ring. Tucking the metal rings safely into my wallet, I walked into the main foyer of the building and quickly ascended the stairs to the third floor.
I stepped into the apartment and immediately, cruel, familiar hands drag me through the door. I was roughly thrown onto the floor, my head glancing off the leg of the living room coffee table. Harsh, quick hits to my ribs in quick succession left me seeing black spots from lack of oxygen, and I could taste iron in my mouth as one or two of my ribs jerked unnaturally. I could feel my clothes being pulled at and torn away, and then nothing.~*~I couldn't feel anything, couldn't see anything, but I could faintly hear the pounding bass of the strip bar next door.
I couldn't sit up without feeling like I was being torn apart, and even if I could stand up, there was a harsh, burning pain running up my spine. I managed to maneuver to where I was laying somewhat comfortably on the dirty alley floor, feeling my phone digging into my thigh.
I pulled the cracked rectangle of plastic and glass out of my pocket, wincing with every slight movement, and called the first number I saw, which was Mike's."Hello?""M-Mike?""Christopher?
I heard footsteps, like someone was running, and then someone had my upper body leaning against them. There was Mike, holding my hand in his, whispering that everything would be alright, that I'd be fine.
Everything blurred together in a mess of white fluorescent lights and cold air, different pairs of eyes, the rest of their faces hidden, looking at me with pity and a tired resignation, gentle hands pressing lightly against broken bones and sore muscles. I felt different needles being stabbed into me and different chemicals being pumped into me, some to dull the pain, some to fight off any infections I may have gotten, and some to keep me hydrated, all of the words being spoken were long, complicated medical terms interrupted by numbers and the names of whatever drugs and fluids they were pumping into me. The only words that I caught in the torrent being flung around were 'rape' and 'abuse', along with the occasional mutter of someone accusing Mike of doing it to me. Soon, the harsh lights were replaced by the dimmed lights of a hospital room, and I easily grew bored of the monotone beating of the heart monitor.
I'll be here when you wake up, okay?" I barely moved my head in a poor attempt of a nod, but it seemed to satisfy him. Maybe, because a few years ago, I was in the hospital, with a bunch of wires and tubes stuck in me, with broken bones. I do, and I'm going to help you." He was whispering, and it seemed like it was more a promise to himself, but it made me wonder about why he said I reminded him of himself, that he once 'looked like I do now.' There were some unanswered questions bouncing around my head, foremost amongst them was what did he do when he left?

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